


Trespassing

by gr8_rach



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kylo is mysterious, No violence but there's some blood so just watch out for that, Rey thinks she can handle it, creepy sexy?, gothic romancey, i don't know what i'm doing i just wrote it, reylo obsession challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8_rach/pseuds/gr8_rach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her instincts are screaming at her; she needs to run. He could be dangerous. He could be the very thing she’s been watching for. Everything about him exudes a sort of menacing energy. His frame is large, vaguely threatening. It’s the kind of frame built for doing sinister things, for frightening smaller beings into submission. His eyes, honey and chocolate, are haunted. She guesses they’ve seen enough cruelty to perhaps forget how to be kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trespassing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey remember that one time we talked about the building prompt in the reylo chat a gazillion years ago? Well, this is it. The prompt was "Rey and Kylo are both obsessed with a building" and then I had to write my way around it.

The city sleeps underneath a heavy blanket of clouds. What little moonlight filters through the thick cover casts a dim glow over the silent city. The buildings are cold, the dark windows giving off a faint, empty shine. Humidity preserves the remnants of a just-passed storm on the street, covering the asphalt in a wet shine. 

Rey is sitting on the roof of a building, crouched next to the lip of the roof with a pair of binoculars. It’s terribly cold at this ridiculous hour, so she’s layered up with a long-sleeved shirt under a hoodie and a heavy coat. A thick black beanie covers her hair, slouched back off her forehead. She’s been here for a while, sitting, waiting, watching, and her eyes are starting to droop with fatigue and, if she’s honest, a little boredom. She’s been searching every window in the opposite building for something—she doesn’t really know what. It’s mostly just a feeling, and anyway, it feels better than doing nothing.

A flicker of movement, a small flash of light and she’s alert again. She brings her binoculars to her face, adjusting the dial on the top to bring the figure in black into focus. He’s prowling around the south side of the building, dressed in heavy dark layers like her own, carrying a flashlight. She worries about what he’s up to, because it can’t be good—and then she remembers that someone would probably think the same of her if they could see the way she was dressed. Her curiosity flares brighter; she focuses closer.

He slinks up to the corner, folding himself up as small as he can, though Rey can still tell that he’s quite large. His considerable shoulders roll as he looks, cautiously, around the edge of the building. There’s something there that’s familiar, maybe, in the way she can just barely make out his gloved fingers wrapping around the bricks of the building. She has never touched the building, but the delicate way he grasps the edge of the wall feels reverent to her. 

In every line of his body, she can see it: he’s intent in his search for something and he doesn't want to be interrupted.

She throws off her heavy exhaustion as he continues to creep along the wall. Holding the binoculars up with one hand, she scratches at the edge of her hat and sweeps her bangs clear of her eyes, shifting out of the crouch she’s been holding for the last 30 minutes. Her knees rub against the concrete as she stretches her torso, straining to see clearer in the dark. 

The man looks into a ground floor window, gazing for a moment and standing completely still. Then he moves on to the next one, peering over the edge of each sill carefully before moving to the next one. When he’s checked all of them, he turns and crosses the street towards her in a few fluid movements that startle her. She leans all the way over the edge of the building, but she can’t see him anymore. 

Rey sinks down to the floor, resting her back against the wall. She throws her binoculars back into the tattered bag next to her, and leans her head back, closing her eyes. She’s so tired. Every day this week she’s spent at least half the night sitting here, watching the building. So far nothing has come of it; that is, until the strange man dressed in dark clothes. Her breathing evens out and she lets herself drift into to a doze for a few minutes.

Then she abruptly sits up—wondering if she should be heading downstairs to see if she can follow him. Finding out what he’s here for seems important. It’s the only clue she’s been able to find that anything unusual is going on with the building. 

She stands up, once again shaking the sleep off her limbs. She picks up her backpack, slings it over her shoulder, and walks towards the door to the stairwell. 

As she reaches for the handle to the door, a noise from within startles her. It’s the sound of heavy footfall. And it’s getting nearer. She stumbles back away from the door. The footsteps stop, and the door opens. 

It’s the man. 

He lets the door swing shut behind him, stopping to pull off his hat and then look at Rey. He seems unaffected, but Rey can tell that he’s surprised; it’s written in the set of his mouth, the way his eyes widen and his pupils dilate just a little bit. He doesn’t move forward, just pulls a glove off with his teeth, running the bare hand through his hair—dark and wild and so, so long—as he eyes her. 

Her instincts are screaming at her; she needs to run. He could be dangerous. He could be the very thing she’s been watching for. Everything about him exudes a sort of menacing energy. His frame is large, vaguely threatening. It’s the kind of frame built for doing sinister things, for frightening smaller beings into submission. His eyes, honey and chocolate, are haunted. She guesses they’ve seen enough cruelty to perhaps forget how to be kind. 

Despite these things, she can’t move. He hasn’t moved; he’s simply looking at her. It occurs to her that if he were going to hurt her he wouldn’t be hesitating this long. He lets his hand fall from his hair and is now replacing the glove he’d pulled off. She stares, mesmerized by the slide of the black leather over his long, white fingers. 

Then she watches him tuck his hat into the pocket of his coat.

He is still looking at her, she realizes. Is he waiting for her to speak? When she opens her mouth to say something, all that comes out is useless stammering and she stops. 

He looks unamused when he asks her what she is doing here. His voice is low and rich, his words clipped. 

She doesn’t owe him an explanation. It’s a rooftop; he doesn’t own it. Though, honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did own it, given the precise cut of his coat and the authoritative lilt to his words. With a stern face, she tells him exactly what she thinks he can do with his questions, and he lifts an eyebrow at her impolite suggestion. There’s a hint of a smirk on his full lips as he narrows his eyes and stalks towards her. 

Instinctively, she moves away from him, stumbling backwards until her hips are pressed up against the low wall of the roof. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s pushed his body into hers, his shoulders level with her nose, but she looks up defiantly, refusing to be cowed by his admittedly intimidating physical display. 

He demands this time, his face growing nearer to hers with each word. Who is she? What is she doing here? What does she know about the building across the street?

She’s resolved and steely until the last question, which stuns her. He sees her face slacken and he presses closer, just a little closer, until his nose touches hers. He asks again, what does she know about the building? 

His breath _tastes_ —yes, she’s close enough to taste it—like mint and she’s struggling to understand why being this close is necessary, but she won’t back down, so she presses her nose into his and answers him. 

He pulls back when she says that she’s been here every night for weeks. 

He’s been watching for weeks, too, he says. Just had a feeling that something was wrong. Hasn’t found anything yet, either.

She wonders why they haven’t seen each other before, but he says he comes in the afternoons. Leaves before dark. Has business in the mornings. 

Only in the mornings? Rey wonders what sort of life he lives that allows him such freedom. She has worked at least a part time, and at times a full-time job, since she was very young. The only time she could make to come and keep watch is late at night. 

It’s a reluctant reconciliation, but they agree to keep watch together for the rest of the night. His name is Kylo, he says as he offers his hand, and Rey’s cheap fleece glove creaks against the soft leather of his as their palms kiss. His long fingers curl around the part of her wrist left bare between her coat and glove. It’s difficult to say which burns hotter, the cold leather of his gloves on her wrist or the dark honey of his eyes staring into hers. 

He’s clearly an intense man, but Rey can easily match his intensity. Fire blazes from her eyes and back into his. There’s a long moment where their eyes and hands are locked together, before Kylo clears his throat, releases her hand, and reaches into the bag at his shoulder. 

Is she hungry, he wants to know? In his hand is a sandwich wrapped in white paper, the edges taped together. She wants to shake her head, but her stomach has already growled. Audibly. He wants to grin, she can see it in the slight pout of his lower lip, but he maintains a straight face, nudging the sandwich into her gloved hands. 

When she’s unwrapped it, she can’t contain the gasp. It’s not just some cheap, cold-cut sandwich; this has meat that was probably cooked today, and fresh vegetables. He’s watching her, so she resists the urge to bring it to her nose and inhale, instead bringing it to her mouth and biting down, moaning softly as she chews. 

Instead of commenting, he unwraps his own and begins eating. They’ve settled back against the wall Rey was leaning against when she spotted him, an uneasy silence that stretches over the whole rooftop. 

The lingering humidity from the rain sticks to her face and creeps into her clothes, chilling her, despite her many layers. She shivers and huddles tighter into her coat, feeling a thrill of foreign anticipation when Kylo shifts a little closer to lend her his warmth. The line of his body is pressed against her, contact along their knees, elbows, shoulders, and the proximity makes her blush. Embarrassed, she buries her face in her sandwich and continues eating. 

When she looks up at Kylo after finishing her food, he’s looking down at her. She feels frozen, caught in the way his eyes narrow and his wolfish grin spreads across his face, exposing the white glint of his teeth. He plucks the ball of crumpled white paper from her hands, tucking it somewhere in his bag without looking. He leans in and Rey's breath catches; his nose is touching the edge of her hat, and _is he smelling her hair?_ The gentle, unmistakable intake of breath is her confirmation, and then he pulls back, still smiling. He watches as she takes the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, and he bites the end of his own tongue between his teeth. His eyes are hungry.

The sound of glass shattering jolts Rey out of the strange trance. She scrambles up to peer over the edge, catching a glint of something in the corner window of the top-most floor. It's glass, she realizes, falling from the frame onto the street below and into the room. There's something she can almost see inside the room if she strains her eyes, a dark shape on the floor, maybe, or possibly it's just standing in the doorway. Maybe there’s nothing.

Kylo's voice interrupts her silent search, but he has to repeat his question a few times before she can tear her eyes away from the window and understand him. When she understands, she looks at him in shock and fear, but nods and they turn away from the lip of the roof, towards the stairs that will lead them down to the street. 

They make their way across the street without any trouble, and Rey stops in front of the building to pull a glove off and place her palm flat against the front. She has watched the building for a long time but she has never, never been this close to it. It is a strange feeling, to be near something that she's thought so much about; it's even stranger to have fulfillment after all of the anticipation. 

Kylo hisses at her from the doorway a few yards away, gesturing for her to join him. She looks around before scrambling towards him, a scowl on her face. He rolls his eyes and yanks open the door; Rey thinks she hears something pop, but there’s no way he _broke_ the lock, is there? She puts it out of her mind and follows him inside. 

Clearly, this building was once a hotel. Rey can see the front desk, the baggage carts and through what looks to be the breakfast room, she can see where the elevators are. From the outside, it looks fine—as if she could walk into the front and request a room, glance at the bellhop and press the elevator button. Her shoes would squeak across the polished floor, and she’d smile, sheepish and shy. 

But the reality is that the building is wrecked. The front desk is coated in a layer of dust, the baggage cart on its side, one of the bars rusted through. The elevators stand open and ominous, and the whole floor smells like animal waste, powerful enough to make Rey’s eyes water. She covers her mouth and nose with a gloved hand, but Kylo reaches up around his neck, pulling a scarf out from the inside of his coat and reaching down to wrap it around her face. His fingers rub against her cheeks. Rey can’t tell if it’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture or if it’s something else. His eyes are strangely unreadable. 

His hand drops from her face and he takes a step away from her, towards where the elevators are before turning to make sure she follows. With one hand securing the scarf over her face, she does. 

Pausing briefly in front of the elevators, Kylo looks around and she watches his eyes fall on the heavy-looking door in the corner. He plods off towards it in his distinctive gait; his steps powerful and unsteady, reminiscent of the way a warrior would walk. It’s definitely intimidating, but Rey feels a tiny chill of attraction run up the back of her neck anyway. She remembers herself just in time to follow him through the heavy swing of the door. 

It shuts behind them with a heavy thud and they’re left in the crushing darkness of the stairwell. From out of her side pocket, Rey produces a small lighter, tucking her remaining glove in its place. Cupping her palm around the tiny flame, she lifts it above her head and looks up. 

She’s seen the building from the outside, and logically, she knows how big it is. But the empirical facts have not prepared her for how large the black space looks when she’s standing at the bottom of the stairwell, looking directly up. She turns towards Kylo, and for a moment a thrill of fear moves through her. His face is illuminated from below, the weak light casting a long shadow from his cheekbones up into his eyes. There’s a faint glint on the edge of his teeth. For the first time that night, he looks…truly frightening. Positively predatorial. 

The longer she looks at him, the faster her heart pounds, and she takes a step back. There’s a piece of loose concrete and she stumbles, dropping the lighter and plunging them both into crushing darkness. A short, high-pitched shriek leaves her and she freezes in place, suddenly feeling as if she’ll suffocate if she doesn’t get some light immediately, as if the darkness is a film and it’s covering her nose and mouth and spreading through her chest to her lungs and _oh gosh she can’t breathe_. Somewhere outside of her she can hear violent flapping and animal scrambling, and it just makes her panic worse. 

Hands fumble along her front, awkwardly scrambling until they find her shoulders, and the contact is so unexpected that she screams again. She’s knows it’s just Kylo, but given the last image of him she’d had in her mind, that fact isn’t exactly comforting. Fingers trace up her chin, clumsily covering her mouth as he soothes her quietly. The tip of one of his fingers slips past her trembling lips and in her fear she instinctively bites down. He growls, wrenching his hand from her face and she can hear something rustling, her heart rate is climbing again, but then...

Light. He’s pulled a flashlight from his bag. It’s less than daylight would offer, but more than her little lighter, and it calms her racing pulse a little. Kylo looks less sinister, too, the shadow of his eyes more playful than hungry (though there’s just enough of that to keep the bottom of her stomach tight). He crouches down, the long lines of his legs folding under him as he grasps the little lighter between his fingers. Then he’s rising again, shocking Rey once more with the sheer size of his body, and holding it out to her. She takes it with tremorous fingers and tucks it in her pocket again. 

Finally, they begin to ascend the stairs. Kylo goes first, and though Rey isn’t sure about how she feels going last, she concedes that she can better defend them both from a threat if Kylo is there to serve as a distraction. They climb the stairs in near-silence, with only the background flutters and snuffles of the bats that are probably huddled near the top of the stairs.

The hinge on the door at the top sticks, and Kylo has to wrench it open, which sends the bats screeching, and Rey, calmer than she was at the beginning of the journey up the stairs, doesn’t flinch as they flap around her. 

Kylo turns to her and together, they calculate the direction they’re facing and then head in the direction of the broken window. The vacant hallway is eerily dim as they walk side-by-side, and suddenly they’re at the end of the corridor, and the door is right there. The two of them stop for a moment, and Kylo looks at her before he moves to step closer. 

As he takes the step, Rey blocks his chest with her arm. What if there’s something dangerous lurking behind the door? Just plowing forward would be idiotic and reckless. With an expression of faux confusion, Kylo asks if she’s worried about him. Rey’s scoff is immediate and loud, but the effect is exactly what Kylo wanted. She drops her arm and he continues forward. 

Rey gives Kylo an anxious glance as he nears the door, reaching out to let his fingers brush over the numbers in the middle. He looks back at her, a sly, reassuring smile on his face as he trails his fingers along the fading white paint towards the doorknob. Slowly, so slowly, he wraps his hand around the tarnished metal, leather squeaking softly as he turns it as carefully as he can manage. 

Rey holds her breath as he eases the door open and steps into the room after it. She's sure that he's going to be attacked or harmed as soon as his head peers through the doorframe and around the small wall. He straightens, pulling himself back up to his considerable height and gives her a positively _exultant_ grin as he reaches for her hand. The leather of his glove feels cool and alien where she's missing her gloves. It is only then that she allows herself to release the air she'd been holding. 

With the tight grip he has on her hand, Kylo pulls Rey into the empty room, and she gasps out loud. 

Blood. There's blood everywhere. Sticky blood covers the walls in thick, heavy streaks. The dust on the carpet is clumped dark red where it isn't protected by bloodstained glass. As she looks around the room, Rey can see the window that had been broken while they'd sat across the road on the roof of the other building. The jagged edges of the glass that are still clinging to the frame are dripping, the thick sound of the drops hitting the sill enormously loud against the silence. A dusty chair in the corner is the sole survivor; the faded floral print seems to be relatively free of the gore and silt that covers the rest of the room.

Kylo, still holding onto her hand, begins to slink around the edge of the room, his large limbs moving carefully as he side-steps bits of glass and splotches of blood. His eyes dart around, guiding his feet and devouring each detail of the wreckage with a sort of feverish urgency. As his arm stretches to its limit, he looks back and tugs on her hand once, the glitter of excitement in his eyes hypnotizing her. 

He almost seems to be...enjoying himself. Though he is looking at her, behind his eyes she can see his thoughts racing, and for a moment, Rey is struck by a sense of familiarity. She has seen that expression before, she realizes—on the face of a little boy watching a snake devour a mouse—it is dark pleasure, venomous in its joy. Rey finds herself enraptured by it, compelled towards him by the magnetizing intensity in the sharp angles of his face. A heady wave of unmistakable want flushes over her, a thin sheen of sweat of slithering down her spine and making her palms damp. 

Without a thought to her movements, she lurches forward, intent on joining him in the corner of the room. Eyes on his face, she weathers the first couple of steps without any trouble, but when his fingers tighten on hers, she forgets to watch her feet and trips over something heavy and thick. Her hand slips out of Kylo's as she falls forward, and in her panicked scramble to reclaim the contact, she fails to bring her hands out to catch herself. 

There is a slick _swoosh_ , and Rey gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to her face. She touches along the slant of her cheek, and her eyes widen as she pulls back and sees the dark fluid smeared on the pads of her fingers, like sticky, cherry syrup. The side of her face is warm where the blood is oozing, the drips running perilously close to the corner of her mouth where it has fallen open in shock. 

Kylo is at her side almost immediately, the soles of his boots crunching carelessly over the glass on the carpet. He crouches, pulling her weight upright before slinging her body into his arms, cradling her close as he stands. Before she remembers the blood, she turns her face into his jacket as she trembles. But as soon as the wetness on her cheek touches the smooth, waterproof fabric, she jerks away, apologizing. 

He hushes her with a dark look, and from below, she can see his eyelashes quiver every time he blinks. His scowl makes him look like a dark, ethereal creature, and for a moment she is afraid of him again, frightened by the naked intensity in his eyes. She'd been sure that she could match him, passion for passion. However...his gaze slides over the features of her face, and she can almost feel the cold fire of it against the slope of her nose, the line of her jaw, the curve of her mouth, in the flick of her tongue as she wets her lips self-consciously. She wonders if she made the right choice, allowing him to keep watch with her tonight. 

The chair in the corner of the room is his destination; his long legs cross the room in just a few steps, and then he is depositing her into it gently, so that her back rests against one arm, her calves against the other. He slides his arms out from under her body and kneels on the ground before her, his face level with hers. In his expression, what once was a hungry flame is now a deceptive calm, like a wolf wrapped in silks. He still looks like he will eat her alive as he pulls his gloves off with his teeth, but in the face of such danger she would only press him closer and insist he devour her quicker.

A shiver rolls through her as he rests one hand on her knee and the other on her neck. She turns, shifting so that her feet can touch the ground, parting her knees around his frame. His fingers spread against her neck, the tip of his index finger brushing the hollow behind her ear while his littlest finger rests just in the curve of her collarbone. His other hand slides to her waist, curling around her almost possessively. 

His whispered question catches her off guard; she is too focused on the way his thumb feels as it curves over her jaw. He repeats it and she nods—she is mostly just shaken, but not in an immense amount of pain. He tilts her face with his spindly fingers, putting pressure on the back of her neck and pushing against her chin with his thumb. His face is serious, concerned, as he studies the slash across the left side of her face. 

After his careful examination, his eyes lower to her mouth for a second before coming up to meet her curious stare. He thinks she will live, he says with a sly smirk, and then he ever-so-carefully drags the pad of his thumb through some of the blood on the side of her face, his eyes never leaving hers. Somewhere inside of her, she must be repulsed by this, but her body's prevailing reaction is an immense fullness in the pit of her stomach, heat blooming and spreading upwards through her.

He notes the flush across her cheeks with a ravenously curious gaze and Rey has a sudden flash of an image that makes her groan internally— _his mouth covering hers in a heated kiss. His tongue flicking against her teeth as his hands cup the sides of her face, blood smearing and burning beneath his palm as his long, white fingers tangle in her hair._

She blushes hotter all over, and his pupils dilate as he watches the heat spread. His fingers tighten against her neck and he moves in suddenly, his face a breath away from hers before she can even think. 

But now she really can't think because the mint of his mouth is a whisper against the right side of her face, his nose skimming down her cheek and across her jawline, kissing the curve of her chin before coming to rest against the corner of her mouth. Kylo lets out a noise, somewhere between a whine and a groan and it makes her eyes flutter for a moment. 

Then his face is a flash of white movement and his mouth is coming close, closer, closer to hers and she can already taste him and she's aching, and then his tongue is painting a long, wet stripe along her cheek. 

He _licks_ her face, his saliva mixing with her blood and his breath hot against the wet slash across her skin. He drags his tongue up to her temple and then plants a messy, open-mouthed kiss across the delicate line of her cheekbone. 

When he pulls back, his mouth is covered in the cherry syrup of her blood, and when his tongue darts out to swipe at the corner of his lips, it is dark, obscenely red. She feels a twinge of disgust twisting in her belly, entirely at odds with her strange fixation on the lovely contrast that the blood provides to his lily-white face. 

Kylo just stares at her, the edges of his white teeth almost sharpening against his scarlet lips as a strange hunger burns in his eyes. 

Rey is equal parts horrified and enraptured.

**Author's Note:**

> DauntlessSubconscious is like....the best editing friend (*cough*beta*cough*) in the whole world.
> 
> I'm on tumblr! Find me here: [rachel-greatest](rachel-greatest.tumblr.com)


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